


Don't Let Them Know

by dreamlittleyo



Series: Distress and Disarray [4]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Guilt, M/M, Pining, Rank Disparity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 19:59:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15298935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/pseuds/dreamlittleyo
Summary: In which Washington is distracted, but does his best not to show it.





	Don't Let Them Know

"You look absolutely miserable." Angelica's voice startles him from disjointed thoughts, bringing his awareness back to his office and the half-finished work before him.

Washington raises his eyes. "I'm not miserable. I am _thinking_."

He doesn't bother clarifying _what_ he is thinking about. He has no intention of giving his canny first officer any hint of why he is distracted; he's not that stupid. For all Angelica Church's willingness to play fast and loose with regulations for the sake of the crew's safety, when it comes to the chain of command and the weight of authority she's a stickler of the first degree.

As she should be. As Washington is too, despite the complicated mess of his private feelings. He knows full well his infatuation with Alexander Hamilton is a problem he should disclose. 

But he also knows—with a gut-deep certainty—that if he admits the extent of his problem, Hamilton will be gone in a matter of weeks. Transferred to another vessel, another crew, with no idea _why_ Angelica has conspired to send him away. Perhaps even assuming his general made the call. Washington cannot bear the idea.

It's selfish to prioritize keeping the boy close, when Washington is painfully aware his judgment is compromised. He fully intends to do it anyway.

Angelica gives him a look that's all narrowed eyes and piercing scrutiny. She looks… not _quite_ judgmental, but almost, standing there with rigid posture, the perfect lines of her uniform and tightly braided hair giving her an intimidating air.

She crosses the room and tugs one of the guest chairs closer to the desk, turning it so she can straddle the seat backwards and cross her arms over the back. "What are you thinking about?"

He has no intention of answering that question. He will not admit that all day his mind has been drifting to their last away mission, to the full hour he spent with Hamilton in his arms. A necessary inconvenience—they would not have survived in the open—but he can't pretend he didn't enjoy the prolonged proximity. He can't pretend he _wasn't_ secretly disappointed when the danger passed and they emerged from their hiding place to rejoin the away team.

Washington keeps his expression bland with difficulty. "What are you doing in here?" He didn't give her permission to enter, and he doesn't welcome the interruption, coming as it does with an interrogation attached.

Angelica meets his eyes steadily. "You didn't answer the chime, and the door was unlocked."

It isn't the first time Angelica has barged in, and it sure as hell won't be the last. Of all the seconds-in-command Washington has worked with—and there have been a fair few in his lengthy career—Angelica is by far the most willful. There is no restraining her when she's confident she is _right_ , and no point trying to dissuade her once she catches the scent of trouble. More than anything Washington needs to convince her there is no trouble to be found.

Which means it's alarming indeed when her expression softens and she asks, "Sir, is everything okay?"

Washington is not, as a rule, a skilled dissembler. He's a good leader, a competent general, a loyal fleet officer. But he is a bad liar and he knows it.

So it's with a great deal of trepidation that he answers, "Of course everything's okay. Why? Is there trouble with the crew?"

Angelica watches him silently for several seconds before shaking her head, tension easing from her shoulders. "No. No trouble with the crew." She stands from the chair and rights it, giving Washington a rueful half-smile. "You know I'm always here to talk."

The smile he forces in answer is small, but hopefully convincing. "Of course, Commander. Dismissed."

She turns for the door, moving with the same stern efficiency as always. Washington does not breathe easy until she is gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: Priority, Dynamic, Miserable
> 
> (Yes, one of these words is missing from the fic. It was there. And it came out in edits. And I can't be arsed to put it back. *shrug*)


End file.
